


This Empty Town

by orphan_account



Series: Empty: The Ramblings Of Jeremy Fitzgerald [1]
Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, Slice of Life, fluff with plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:35:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24453778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: As the sounds of the cab’s questionably functional engine fade into the background, Jeremy comes to the conclusion that this is it. This is the end of Jeremy Fitzgerald.He’s going to die right here on this very porch, too afraid to knock on the door and much too stubborn to turn back.
Series: Empty: The Ramblings Of Jeremy Fitzgerald [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1766227
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	1. Welcome Home, Mr Fitzgerald

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first thing i've written for this fandom in two years, and the first thing i've posted (so far). it's entirely self-indulgent and mostly just rambling fluff with some mystery angst elements sprinkled in.  
> also please excuse any timeline inconsistencies - i couldn't figure out a way to make my storyline work without tweaking some stuff.

If you were to ask Jeremy Fitzgerald exactly what unfortunate chain of coincidences led up to this moment in time, he would have no answer to supply.

It was, of course, an incredibly unfortunate chain of coincidences indeed. But Jeremy has known nothing but terrible luck for his entire life, so trying to recount exactly _which_ string of bad luck had gotten him stuck in this position is almost certainly impossible.

‘This position’ being him standing on a dilapidated porch in the middle of a storm, clutching a battered suitcase filled with the last of his possessions, while the shady cab driver who’d dropped him off speeds away, the crunch of wet gravel skidding under tires lost in a clap of thunder.

There goes his way out, he thinks bitterly. If the universe had wanted to give him a chance to escape from this hot mess, he’s already gone and wasted it. Rain drips down his face, hair and clothes thoroughly soaked. He’s been standing here for a good five minutes with his hand hovering right over the doorbell, the two sides of his brain battling it out over whether or not he needs to book it out of here and move back in with his parents for another five years.

If losing his job wasn’t bad enough, getting hit by a car and subsequently losing every last dollar in his name to medical bills had been the final metaphorical nail in the coffin. Sometimes he feels like his entire existence is just one colossal practical joke being played over and over until he dies in some stupid, impossible way.

And the latest instalment in the saga of bad ideas that is Jeremy’s life? This goddamn ghost house, with its overgrown garden and creaking floorboards, and the sense of utter _wrongness_ that hangs in the air, as though this entire building had been torn from a nightmare and planted in the ground one night. Because living is really, _really_ expensive, and the landlord had seemed nice on the phone, and Jeremy’s an idiot.

As the sounds of the cab’s questionably functional engine fade into the background, Jeremy comes to the conclusion that this is it. This is the end of Jeremy Fitzgerald.

He’s going to die right here on this very porch, too afraid to knock on the door and much too stubborn to turn back.

Maybe there’s still time to leave. Walk all the way back into the city and find a payphone, call this ‘Marionette’ person and apologise for never showing up. Ask for a refund of this month’s rent, perhaps.

Of course, that’s never going to be an option. Not for Jeremy, king of bad luck and even worse decisions. Because somehow, somewhere deep in his shrivelled up, cowering soul, he finds enough courage to just jam his finger into the doorbell…and immediately regrets it.

He snatches his hand back as though that will undo the pressing of this demon doorbell. It doesn’t, because the universe, unfortunately, doesn’t work that way, but he hears muffled footsteps from behind the large, weathered wooden door, underneath the sounds of the storm.

The door creaks loudly as it opens; Jeremy stiffens, knuckles white where he clutches the handle of his suitcase.

The woman who peeks out from behind the door isn’t a _woman_ at all - not in the human sense of the word. Her entire body is covered head-to-toe in soft yellow feathers; where a human mouth should be there’s instead an orange beak, bright pink lipstick painted around its ridges. Her ‘arms’ – if you can even call them that – seem to be non-functional wings attached to talon-like hands.

“Oh, there you are!” She chirps. “We were worried you didn’t know how to use the doorbell.”

Jeremy balks, head spinning. He asks what’s probably the _least_ important question in his head right now:

“You could – see me? Standing out here?”

“Of course, silly! We have windows, you know!”

God, he’s an idiot. Should have just chased down the cab driver and risked getting shot. What’s going on? What drug is he on? Is he still in the hospital, tripping on morphine?

“I wanted to come out and make sure you hadn’t frozen to death, but Freddy told me to wait and see. You know how he is.”

“I…who?”

The bird-woman waves him off. “Oh, Freddy! You’ll love him; I can tell. Come inside, won’t you? It’s too cold out here.”

She grabs Jeremy by the arm and tugs him inside, pushing the door closed with her –

Wait.

“Your feet,” Jeremy says, like an idiot. “They – “

Birdy follows his gaze. “Oh, these old things?” She lifts one of them, talons flexing. “I hope you don’t mind how long my nails are. I haven’t gotten a pedicure in – wow, like two months.”

Jeremy blinks, mind racing. “Right. Of course.”

She knocks his elbow. “Come on. The others are all so excited to meet you!”

God. Oh, god. This isn’t real, is it? It can’t be. Jeremy knows it’s not. Maybe it’s the brain damage from the accident, or some sort of belated, trauma-related hallucination. Or something. It can’t be real. There’s no such thing.

Jeremy wants to make a run for it, sprint back out the door and down the road, try and find help. But his mind is stuck in a loop, and it’s all he can do not to collapse. He finds himself following the bird lady through to a large living space on nothing but muscle memory alone. Some sort of stubborn, idiotic train of thought passing briefly through his head is enough to keep him moving, like always.

But hey, idiocy’s what got him in this situation. Maybe it’ll get him out of it.

If chicken-woman wasn’t enough, on one of the room’s large red couches lounges a lanky purple rabbit, one ear cocked as he watches a screen mounted on the wall. Next to him, a red fox with a hook where his left hand should be, an eyepatch, and a very unkempt tail hangs off the edge of the couch, a gaming console clutched in his working – paw? Is it a paw? It’s a paw.

Okay. Okay, Jeremy thinks, this is enough. He’s had enough. Time for the prank to end, universe. Time to wake up.

“Attention, everybody,” Bird Lady says before Jeremy can feign illness and run away. “If you could both turn your lazy eyes over here for a spare moment.”

Both of them look up. The rabbit tilts his head ever-so-slightly, and Jeremy gets a front-row view of exactly _which_ alarming shade of hellish red his eyes are.

Chicken-lady grins, which involves an unsettling contortion of her beak that makes the hair on Jeremy’s neck stand up. And are those – teeth? Gross, ew, no thank you.

“Our new roomie has arrived! And isn’t he just adorable?”

She pats Jeremy on the head with that claw hand. Jeremy forces down a full-body shudder.

Rabbit-man rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes, very adorable,” he deadpans, obviously used to Birdy’s enthusiasm. He shakes his head and smiles at Jeremy, revealing two large, oddly sharp buck-teeth. “You’re Fitzgerald, right? Jeremy Fitzgerald?”

“Uh – ”

“Oh, Marionette made sure we knew everything about you before you showed up,” Rabbit-man says, misinterpreting the source of Jeremy’s apparent confusion. “Anyway. I’m Bonnie. That blinding ball of sunshine next to you is Chica, and this – ” he gestures to the fox-eared fellow next to him, “ – is Foxy.”

Jeremy blinks. He thinks his heart may have stopped. “Um. Hello.”

“Where’s Freddy gone to now?” The chicken – Chica asks.

“He’s bringing in the laundry before the storm ruins it completely,” Bonnie says with a shrug.

“Aye, we don’t want to end up looking like this lad here,” Foxy agrees. He jabs his hook in Jeremy’s direction. Jeremy isn’t sure whether to be insulted or threatened. “Jus’ look at ‘im. Run ragged.”

Bonnie narrows his eyes. “Say, Jeremy, did you want a towel? Some fresh clothes? You do look a tad drowned. Ah, no offence, of course.”

Jeremy looks down at himself, belatedly realising how much water he’s been dripping onto the floorboards. “Uh – “

“I’ll get you one!” Chica says before Jeremy even has a chance to answer. “And I’ll go get Freddy, too, so you can say hello!”

She bounds off, clawed feet clicking against the floor.

“Is she – always this intense?” Jeremy asks, brain lagging about ten minutes behind, trying to process everything. Even if none of this is real, or they’re all demons, he doesn’t want to be rude.

“Aye,” rasps Foxy. He abandons his game and peers up at Jeremy with his one eye. “Ye get used to it.”

“Somebody’s gotta be the joyful one,” Bonnie says. He shrugs. “But yeah, you get used to it. If you ever want her to back off, just tell her. She’s a good one.”

He shakes his head. One of those strange purple ears twitches. It looks – so real, somehow, and yet still so unbelievable.

“So, Fitzgerald, what brings you to this little slice of paradise?”

He even _talks_ like a normal person.

Jeremy rubs his neck. “I don’t even think I know, at this point,” he admits, doing his best not to stammer. “String of unfortunate luck, I guess. I was looking for housing, and I got a call from somebody called Marionette, and now I’m here.”

Stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. If they’re demons, giving them personal information is definitely a terrible idea.

“Well, Marionette’s a kind soul,” Bonnie tells him. “They would have stayed to meet you, but an emergency came up at work. Or something.”

“Or – or something?”

“A mystery, that one,” Foxy says. “Like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

Jeremy almost laughs. He’s halfway between throwing up and passing out.

“So they live here too?” Jeremy asks, instead of collapsing. “With all of you guys?”

“Yep,” Bonnie says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “They own the house. Decorated it, too, so if you’re ever wondering why it looks like a circus in here, blame the clown.”

Taking it all in, Jeremy can definitely see hints of ‘circus’ in the room. There’s a trio of white masks hanging above the unlit fireplace, the curtains are decidedly pinstriped, and the general colour scheme is very ‘haunted fairground’-esque. It’s not the worst interior decorating Jeremy’s ever seen, and it’s certainly less frightening than whatever freakshow he’s found himself talking to.

“I found a towel!” Chica’s footsteps come thundering into the room. She thrusts a bright pink, fluffy towel into Jeremy’s arms as she skids to a stop next to him.

Jeremy wraps it around his soaked shoulders, dazed. “Thank you.”

Another set of (much heavier) footsteps follows, and a large, broad face peers into the room. Brown fur, round ears, and a frame large enough to shake the ground when he walks. A bear, wearing a vest, bowtie, and top hat.

Because things couldn’t get weirder.

“Freddy, this is Jeremy! Jeremy, meet Freddy!” Chica grins, patting Freddy on the arm. He’s – okay, he’s really, really huge. Colossal. The biggest living thing Jeremy's ever seen. He has to duck under the doorway to enter the room.

“Hi,” Jeremy ventures, timid. Freddy stares at him, calculating something.

“Good evening,” he says finally, voice rich and deep. “You must be Mr Fitzgerald.”

“Just Jeremy is fine,” Jeremy croaks.

“…Mr Fitzgerald,” Freddy says. “How did you find your journey? You certainly look as though you have seen better days.”

Does he really look that bad? No, hold on, do these people not even notice what _they_ look like? Do they think this is _normal?_ Are they even seeing it?

“Oh, um, I’m just glad I got here before the storm gets any worse,” Jeremy says, talking through the lump in his throat. “So, uh this is – all of you? Aside from Marionette, of course.”

He doesn’t think he could handle anything else.

Foxy nods. “Aye, this is the lot.”

“Well, apart from the temporaries,” Bonnie adds.

“The…temporaries?”

“Oh, yes,” Chica says. “I’m not sure if Marionette would have mentioned it to you. There’s a lot of spare rooms in this house, and there’s a lot of folks who need a place. We get people coming through every now and then; most of them are recurring visitors. We’re the only ones who live here full time, though.”

“Just don’t be alarmed if you wake up to a stranger in the kitchen every now and then,” Bonnie says. “And that’s speaking from experience.”

“…right.”

Jeremy has no idea how he’s supposed to be feeling. ‘Confused’ seems to be the right choice. His brain feels like it’s melting underneath all this new information. He still thinks that he might be on some mysterious, fucked up drugs.

Or maybe this is all some cruel welcome-home prank. That might make sense. Maybe in the morning, everybody will apologise and come clean, and Jeremy can stop having what seems to be a very confusing, very subtle panic attack. He hopes that he’ll wake up to normal humans and a normal house, and a _normal_ fresh start.

“Are you alright, Jeremy?” Chica asks, eyes wide. “You’re sheet pale. You _were_ standing out in the rain for a while, there. Are you getting sick?”

“I think I’m just – tired,” Jeremy lies. He takes the towel from his shoulders and balls it up in his hands. Chica hurriedly takes it from him and drapes it over her arm – wing, her wing. “It’s been a long night.”

Chica nods sagely. “Oh, of course. Freddy can give you a quick tour and show you to your room, if you’d like to turn in for the night.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

Jeremy takes one look at Freddy’s intimidating form and thinks that maybe it won’t be that great, actually.

“Oh, also,” Chica says. “We’re usually all up at six in the morning. It’s fine if you want to sleep in, of course, but we’ll probably be making some noise pretty early. Feel free to sleep with earplugs if you need to.”

As if these people could get any weirder. An entire household of animal-people who all wake up at six in the morning? In _this_ day and age? It’s insanity.

“’kay,” Jeremy mumbles. Is he in shock? He thinks he might be in shock.

“Alright, then,” Chica smiles. “Goodnight, Jeremy! I look forward to getting to know you better in the morning!”

“Welcome to the family,” Bonnie says, somewhat sarcastically. Foxy salutes Jeremy from where he still hangs upside-down from the couch.

“Night,” Jeremy murmurs.

He turns and almost walks straight into Freddy’s barrelled chest. Freddy makes a noise that could be a huff of amusement and pats Jeremy on the shoulder hard enough to hurt.

“Come with me,” Freddy rumbles. He turns and lumbers away, towards a sizeable, grand-looking staircase. Jeremy trails behind, glancing longingly back at the front door as he goes.

The stairs creak under his feet, but he can tell that – when they were built, at least – they were designed to look fancy. The handrail is still smooth and shiny, but the rug leading upstairs is old and moth-bitten. It’s a miracle the fragile wood can hold Freddy’s weight.

“Nice place,” Jeremy comments nervously when the silence becomes stifling. Freddy glances at him.

“Marionette does their best with what they have,” he replies, gruff. They’ve found themselves in a large hallway. Looking through the windows, Jeremy can see several forks of lightning flashing through the dark sky. He braces himself for thunder, but doesn’t expect the violent tremor that seems to grip the entire house.

“I hope you don’t mind, but you will be sharing a bathroom with Foxy,” Freddy says, either ignoring or oblivious to the shaking foundations.

“Oh, no, I don’t mind at all.”

Freddy nods. At the end of the hallway are two doors, which they stop in front of. One of them has the word ‘Foxy’ carved into the ornate wood, and the other is spotless. Freddy gives the etchings a distasteful look.

“The one on the left is yours. Chica, Bonnie, and I are at the other end of the hall, if ever you need us for any reason.”

“Good to know,” Jeremy says. He knows which area to avoid, then. “So, uh, is there anything important I need to know before I crash? Any specific chores or routines?”

Any hallucinogenic mushrooms in the garden that you neglected to mention?

Freddy hums. Jeremy can feel the vibrations in his own chest. “We can cover that in the morning if you would like. Marionette will want to go over it with you anyway.”

“Oh, okay.” Jeremy looks at the door, then back at Freddy’s hulking form. “Um, goodnight, I guess.”

“Goodnight.” Freddy tips his head and retreats, disappearing into the dim light of the hall.

Right, okay, this isn’t so bad, Jeremy thinks. So long as he doesn’t wake up getting eaten by a hungry bear, he’ll be okay. He opens the door to his room and peeks inside.

His first impression: it’s dusty. Very, very dusty. Jeremy squints against a sneeze working itself up in his nose, flicking the light switch on.

The room’s sparsely decorated, but that’s not a problem. The bed’s a queen mattress, and it looks soft enough; there are two nice-looking blankets layered on top of the sheets, and apart from a suspicious-looking stain on the corner of one of them, nothing looks too...murder-y.

Across the room is another door, which must lead to the shared bathroom. Jeremy sets down his (still dripping wet) suitcase at the foot of his bed and closes the door, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. He’s half-tempted to fall flat on his face and pass out for ten hours, but he’s suddenly very aware of how wet and cold his clothes are.

Sighing, Jeremy opens his suitcase and rummages around for his shower supplies. Despite being bone-dead tired, the thought of a warm spray of water feels as good as heaven at this point. Jeremy hopes desperately that this house has hot water.

He pokes his head into the bathroom, more than a little surprised to see that it’s actually…not too bad. There’s no suspicious mould growing in the corners of the tiles, and there’s a bright red cup on the edge of the sink that holds a similarly coloured toothbrush. The door to what must be Foxy’s room is slightly dinged up, but nothing more than the one in the hall.

Jeremy makes sure both doors are locked, and then spends a good seven minutes trying to figure out how to make the shower work. Once he does, he steps into the spray and lets the warm water wash away the exhaustion in his bones.

He’s still unsure. Still terribly, terribly confused. But now that he’s got his own bed, and a shower, and warm clothes waiting for him, it’s a little less scary. Just a little, though; his heart’s still trying its best to burst out of his chest in what would be a very wet, messy explosion. Apart from that, he doesn’t think he’s about to pass out anymore.

And hey, maybe this _is_ all a sick practical joke. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. In fact, it’s the most likely explanation. And really, it’s the only thing keeping Jeremy from actually being afraid.

He lathers his hair, deciding to stop thinking about it for now. In the morning, if it turns out that this is all real, he can start asking questions.

For now, though, he’ll just appreciate the fact that his new roommates have running water and count his remaining blessings. How bad can it be, really?


	2. Puppet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy meets his new landlord.

When Jeremy wakes up, he isn’t quite sure where he is. He has an inexplicable sense of having had an insane dream, but already the memory of it slips through his grip like sand. He glances at the digital clock on his bedside table.

[9:15 AM]

His bed is warm. Much more comfortable than he’d expected. Then again, the beds at the hospital had felt like they were made out of rocks, so anything else would probably be an upgrade.

The events of the night prior hazily come back to him, memories oozing thickly into his head. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes, taking the chance to look around now that it’s not midnight. His room is still mostly bare (what a surprise), and the wallpaper seems to be peeling off in some places, but there’s something about it that feels… _homey._ Maybe it’s just because Jeremy’s so used to bland white walls and the constant drone of hospital machinery, but it’s so easy to slip into the headspace of ‘home’.

Well, apart from the anthropomorphic animal people, of course.

He groans and scrubs a hand across his face. Still ninety-fiver per cent sure that he must have just been exhausted to the point of delirium last night, Jeremy dreads walking downstairs and facing the people he convinced himself to be demon creatures.

It’s not the first time he’s hallucinated something like this, and it probably won’t be the last. Brain trauma will do strange things to your mind.

Climbing out from the warmth of his bed covers, Jeremy realises that somebody seems to have left an incredibly soft-looking robe hanging on the inside of his door. He crosses the room and examines it, rubbing the cloudlike material between his fingers before shrugging it on and tying it at the front. Talk about hospitality.

Maybe his new roommates picked up on his anxiety last night and felt bad. Or maybe they’re just…oddly kind. Apart from the whole ‘being a bird’ thing, Chica did seem like a sweetheart.

He feels like an asshole for being so paranoid. Now that it’s the morning, and Jeremy’s no longer cold and tired, he’s pretty sure most of what happened last night wasn’t real after all.

True to Chica’s word, Jeremy can hear the distinct sounds of somebody going about their morning routines downstairs. The floors must be pretty thin, or perhaps the other residents are just very loud.

He heads into the bathroom to freshen up and get dressed before he has to make any appearances. Staring at himself in the mirror, it’s evident that he wasn’t well last night. He looks a lot paler than usual, even by his own standards. There are two large, dark circles underneath his eyes, skin sagging. No wonder Freddy commented on his looks.

He brushes his teeth and tries his best to fix his bedhead – and when he gives up on _that_ fruitless endeavour, he backs out of the room and steps out into the hallway instead, bracing himself for the awkwardest of encounters.

What’s he supposed to say? ‘Hey, sorry I was so weird last night; I thought you were all talking animals,’ doesn’t make him out to be a very stable person. He doesn’t want his new roommates to get the wrong impression.

The floorboards creak underneath his bare feet, dark wood splintering with age. The creepy aura that hung around the halls last night has evaporated with the sunlight now streaming through large windows, shadows chased away by the yellow glow of morning. Now, the place just seems like a normal, albeit very old, house. Well-used, too, if the handprints on the walls are to mean anything. Or maybe they’re just another one of Marionette’s questionable design choices.

There’s nobody at the bottom of the stairway, so Jeremy pauses on the bottom stair for a moment to collect his thoughts. The perpetual headache behind his eyes is slowly growing the longer he stays awake, and it won’t be long until he has to take something for the pain to function.

“Ah, Mr Fitzgerald.”

The voice that drifts down from the top of the stairway is androgynous and well-spoken, with the slightest hint of an accent that Jeremy can’t quite place. He turns around to see a shadowy figure descending the stairs, with long, straight black hair that frames what looks to be –

A mask.

_Great_.

“Uh, hi,” Jeremy says. “Are you Marionette?”

“Indeed.” ‘Marionette’ comes to a stop a few feet away, one or two steps above Jeremy. Their voice is muffled slightly by the mask, but not to the point of being incomprehensible. “I apologise for not being here to welcome you last night. I was otherwise occupied.”

They adjust their black shawl, and Jeremy notes that their hands, at least, look pretty human. Very, very pale, but human.

“Oh, no, that’s alright,” Jeremy says. “I completely understand. I used to work a nightshift as a security guard.”

Marionette hums. “Of course.”

They cock their head. A shiver runs its way down Jeremy’s spine.

They may be human, but their mask’s joyful smile is unsettling. The blank, unseeing eyes seem to stare straight into his soul.

“Would you like some breakfast?” They ask. “I do not want to overwhelm you with information before you have eaten.”

Jeremy’s stomach rumbles in agreement. “That would probably be best.”

He steps out into the living room that he’d seen last night. In daylight, it actually looks pretty nice. The red and purple accents are still garish, for lack of a better term - but there’s a modestly-large wall-mounted television above the fireplace and an entire shelf of movies near the front door that Jeremy’s only now noticing.

Marionette kindly points him towards the kitchen when it’s evident that he still has no idea about the layout of this house. Jeremy makes a mental note to map it out later.

“Anything I shouldn’t touch in here?” Jeremy calls, sticking his head into the fridge. There’s an extensive collection of cheeses on the bottom shelf. Nice.

“Not particularly,” Marionette replies. They slide elegantly into one of the stools behind the granite bench, legs crossed at the ankles. “The tenants share most of the food, unless you want to get your hands on Freddy’s cheap wine. In which case – I wish you luck.”

Jeremy huffs a laugh. He grabs a half-empty carton of milk out of the fridge and a box of cereal from the pantry. There’s a clean bowl in the dish rack, which he steals.

“Did you want anything?” He asks Marionette, who seems to be staring absently out the window – although he can’t really tell, what with that freaky mask.

“Oh, no, thank you,” Marionette says. They touch the side of their mask. “I don’t eat with company.”

“Right.”

He pours himself a hearty bowl of cereal - which is actually sixty per cent marshmallow, somehow – and gingerly takes a seat beside Marionette.

“So, uh, Freddy told me you’d fill me in on all the important stuff?”

He watches Marionette out the corner of his eye as he spoons marshmallow into his mouth.

“Yes, I suppose I did want to speak to you,” they say. Their white, skeletal fingers come up to tug at their shawl. “I am aware that you have recently been recovering from a terrible accident, yes?”

Jeremy nods.

“Yes,” Marionette says again. “I do not want to…’kick you when you’re down’, as they say, and I understand that you are new to the area and therefore do not have any reliable income as of yet.”

“I’m gonna work on fixing that,” Jeremy assures them. “As soon as I can.”

“With that said,” Marionette goes on as though they hadn’t heard him. “The money you supplied for the first month of rent will suffice for the next two months of your residency.”

“Are you sure? I can – “

Marionette waves a hand, silencing him. “I’m sure,” they tell him, firm. “The others have agreed to chip in to cover your costs. We’ve all been in your position before; we can all empathise while you get settled in.”

Jeremy blinks. “That’s…incredibly kind of you all. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank us. We understand what it’s like to have to restart.”

Marionette tilts their head. The mask’s eyes almost seem to move.

“Apart from all of that, is there anything you would like to ask me? About the house, or the town, perhaps?”

Jeremy almost wants to ask whether or not all the other tenants are actually anthropomorphic, talking animals, but he bites his tongue. He doesn’t want to seem crazy, even if he’s talking to somebody wearing a puppet mask in broad daylight.

“I’d just like to know how life works around here,” Jeremy says. “I don’t want to overstep anywhere. Are there any specific rules or routines that I should know about? This _is_ your house, after all.”

Marionette seems to think this over. Jeremy shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“I would advise against throwing any large, messy parties,” Marionette says, “though I doubt there are enough people in this town for a party of that size. The only concrete house rule, I suppose, is to stay out of the other tenants’ rooms.”

“I think I can handle that.”

“Of course, I also don’t allow tenants in the attic. That is my workspace, and I do not like to have people around my work simply on the grounds of confidentiality. I hope you understand – I like to have my privacy.”

Jeremy nods. That’s not too extreme of a request, considering Marionette owns the house. In fact, everything they’re saying seems pretty damn reasonable - almost _too_ lax for a house of what, five people, excluding them?

“Apart from that, I will generally stay out of your business,” Marionette tells him. “You’ll have to ask Freddy or Chica about any specifics. I tend to keep out of the other tenants’ discussions.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Jeremy sets down his spoon. He looks around, noticing the lack of noise. “Hey, uh, do you know where the others might happen to be?”

He wants to look for them and make sure that he was absolutely, definitely hallucinating last night.

Marionette glances back out to the living space. “I believe Bonnie and Foxy have already gone to work. Freddy mentioned something about checking the exterior for storm damage – I apologise if you noticed, but this building was not built to withstand extreme weather conditions.”

That explains all the shaking last night.

“That storm last night _was_ pretty brutal,” Jeremy says. He grabs his (now empty) bowl and paces back over to the sink. He only now notices the little whiteboard hanging above the faucet:

** Dishwashing Duty: **

_Sunday: Chica  
Monday: Freddy  
Tuesday: Bonnie  
Wednesday: Foxy  
Thursday: Chica  
Friday: Freddy  
Saturday: Bonnie_

Jeremy does his best not to mess with their schedule by washing his own things ( even if he really wants to) - because he doesn’t know whether or not that would be overstepping a boundary.

“So, uh, I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Jeremy says, wedging his dirty bowl between a couple of used plates. “But Bonnie mentioned something about ‘temporaries’? Is that a frequent circumstance, or…?”

“It is much less frequent than it used to be,” Marionette assures him. “I would say we get a new temporary roughly every other month. It is usually somebody we know as Goldie, and he never stays long. I hope that’s not a dealbreaker for you.”

“No, no, that’s fine. I was just wondering if I had to expect a new face every day.”

“I would not want to put myself through that sort of stress,” Marionette says. Jeremy can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a joke, not with Marionette’s face hidden by the mask, but he laughs anyway. Marionette slowly stands up, moving with a sort of natural elegance that reminds Jeremy a little too much of a ghost. “I must go back to work, I’m afraid. I truly hope you enjoy living here, and if you have any other questions, feel free to let me know next time you see me.”

“It was nice meeting you!” Jeremy calls after them as they disappear into the house.

When they’re gone, he slumps against the counter with a heavy sigh, smile slipping from his face.

Of _course_ the owner of this house is a freak wearing a mask. Of course they are. It’s not like Jeremy was already freaking out about the rest of the tenants, or anything. It’s not like this house is probably haunted by the spirit of a meth-dealer, or anything.

He shakes his head.

Be positive, Jeremy. At least he has a place to stay, and an extra month living rent-free, thanks to everybody’s kindness. So what if Marionette looks like a comic book villain and the other tenants may or may not be bipedal animal people? At least there’s food on the table and a roof over his head.

And, speaking of the other tenants, Jeremy needs to go make sure he was hallucinating. Maybe also get a tour of the town or something. Meet his neighbours, perhaps? There’s a lot to be done, he’s slowly realising, before he can truly settle in.

_Tap, tap, tap._

He’s startled from his thoughts by the sound of something tapping against the kitchen window behind him.

He turns around and finds himself once again face-to-face with a particularly tall, somewhat chubby chicken.

Chica grins at him when he meets her gaze, waving with one of those odd wing-hand-arm things, feathers fluffed up against the wind.

Jeremy blinks, stares, feels a little like he’s about to pass out. So it wasn’t a hallucination – or, it still might be, but just a very…lengthy one.

Chica mouths (beaks? How do you refer to a bird lip-syncing?) something at him and gestures in the direction of the front door.

“Come outside,” he thinks she’s saying. It’s hard to read her lips when she doesn’t have any. Jeremy nods shakily, and her smile widens.

Great. Okay. This is going to take some getting used to, he supposes. It’s not that bad, really. Just – odd. Very, very odd. But nobody here seems to be malevolent, not even Marionette. If Jeremy can appreciate anything about this situation, it’s that his new roommates don’t seem to be demons hell-bent on tearing him limb from limb.

He warily ventures back out into the hallway and opens the front door, poking his head outside.

“There you are!” Chica cries, bounding into view. She’s wearing a pink hoodie and denim shorts which seem much too skimpy for the cold weather. “How’d you find your first night in the house, roomie?”

“It was – fine. Nice to have a warm bed,” Jeremy says. He looks around. “Uh, did you…need me? For anything?”

Chica brightens. She shakes out her feathers “Oh, not particularly. Freddy and I were just thinking about taking you into town today – you know, because you’re new here and all. Freddy says he needs to go shopping for new tools to fix the gutter, ‘cause of the storm last night, so I figured you might like to come along and look around!”

“That actually sounds great,” Jeremy tells her. The magnitude to which Chica’s face can light up in joy is impressive.

“Okay, okay, great!” Chica goes to turn around, then seems to pause, and looks back at Jeremy. “Did you manage to catch Marionette? I think they wanted to talk to you.”

“Oh, yeah, we had a good talk. They’re a lot…mask-ier than I expected.”

Chica gives a sheepish smile. “We probably should have warned you, huh?”

“I mean, it was certainly surprising,” Jeremy admits. He doesn’t say that the rest of them are somehow worse. “But they’re very kind – and, uh, they told me you’re all paying for my second month of rent? And I wanted to thank you for that.”

Chica waves him off. “Oh, it’s no problem, roomie! We earn enough together that we can comfortably help you while you settle in.”

A set of heavy footsteps crunch behind Jeremy’s back. He turns around and finds Freddy looming over him, a few feet away. Even in daylight, there’s an intense human instinct to shrink away – it’s not like you usually set eyes upon a well-dressed grizzly bear, hallucination or not.

“Good morning, Mr Fitzgerald,” Freddy rumbles. Jeremy has to crane his neck to meet Freddy’s gaze.

“Morning, Freddy,” he eeks out. “Chica was just – uh, telling me that you were willing to give me a tour of the town.”

“Indeed.” Freddy glances at Chica. “We need a new gutter before the rain returns. And I will require a saw.”

Chica cocks her head. “What happened to our old saw? I swear we had one out in the shed.”

“Foxy happened,” Freddy mutters, turning around. “He can’t keep his paws off anything remotely shiny.”

“Wait, are we going now?” Jeremy asks, blinking. He looks at Chica, who just shrugs.

“I would rather not take two trips today,” Freddy tells them. “And Chica cannot drive. Unless you would like to walk later on, you’re free to join me in the car.”

He’s already making a beeline towards an ancient model of a car Jeremy has never seen before – though he’s never been much of a vehicle nerd. The one thing he knows is that it’s obviously retro, and definitely in need of some fixing. The exhaust pipe is hanging on by a thread.

“Guess we’ve gotta go.” Chica nudges Jeremy forwards with her wing-elbow. “Come on, roomie! If we’re lucky, Freddy will let us buy icecream!”

“Yeah, alright.”

The drive is terrible. Whatever small amount of government funding this town had received at first decidedly did not go towards road upkeep. By the time Freddy turns into the main street, Jeremy’s seriously afraid he might lose his breakfast.

The ‘main street’ is, in fact, barely a street at all. It consists of a few essential shops, including a decrepit grocery store that looks like it also doubles as a meth-cove. There are a couple hardware stores smattered around and, surprisingly, an icecreamery as well. As far as towns go, this one has the distinct feeling of sad bankruptcy.

Freddy parks outside one of the hardware stores and they all get out. Jeremy’s just thankful he doesn’t have to put conscious effort into not puking anymore. Chica stretches out her legs, feathers on her thighs fluffing up against the wind. Freddy barely fits in the car to begin with, so it’s not a surprise when he hits his head on the door as he squeezes out into the open air.

“I will go find what we need,” Freddy says, brandishing what must be a shopping list scrawled onto a scrap of paper. “I do believe Mr Nightmare has saved some stock for us.”

“We’re his most loyal customers,” Chica says. “Our stuff breaks down the second he restocks.”

Freddy makes an amused sound. He squints at the paper in his hand and mutters something that Jeremy can’t quite make out.

Chica scuffs her feet in the gravel. “Hey, Jeremy, do you want me to show you around while Freddy does all the responsible stuff?”

Jeremy isn’t too interested in hardware stores and gutter replacement. He lifts a shoulder in a half-shrug and nods.

“Sounds good to me.”

Chica tugs on his arm and leads him down the street. Despite how small and dull the main street seems to be, Chica somehow provides Jeremy with a detailed description of each building’s history and past business owners, gesturing wildly with her wings as she speaks.

Jeremy ends up learning that the town was founded by somebody called Scott Cawthon, but he died soon afterwards, and everybody pretty much forgot it existed. Instead of dying off, it’s somehow been surviving off very little funding for decades, and yet Chica describes it as the most wonderful place on earth. She talks about this town like it’s a beautiful metropolis with sprawling green spaces and skyscrapers at every angle, rather than a dead-end town in the Midwest that’s populated by more rats than people.

Eventually, they meet back at Freddy’s car to help him shove the new piece of gutter into the trunk. It’s there that Jeremy meets yet another animal person – a tall black bear that Freddy introduces as ‘Mr Nightmare’.

“Please, call me Nightmare,” he says when Jeremy greets him. So the whole ‘Mr’ stuff isn’t just for Jeremy, then. Nightmare’s voice is gruff and raspy, not unlike a human whose lungs had inhaled too much smoke for too long. There are worrying scars scored across his nose (snout?) and arms, but he seems kind enough, if a tad cold.

He talks to Freddy about some sort of home renovation magazine, because apparently that’s what bears are into, these days. Jeremy and Chica exchange a glance, and Chica rolls her eyes as though she’s used to it.

When they finish stuffing Freddy’s purchases into the cramped trunk of his car, Chica – having watched and cheered them on from the sidewalk – decides it would be a good idea to go get ice cream.

“We can visit Bonnie,” Chica says, waving goodbye to Nightmare as he returns to his store. “It’ll be great!”

“Bonnie works at the ice cream place?” Jeremy asks while Chica leads him back down the street.

Freddy nods. “He does not enjoy it.”

“It’s not that bad,” Chica argues. “He’s just got high standards. I’d love to work there and get free ice cream whenever I wanted.”

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

The icecream place in question is connected to a convenience store, where apparently both Foxy and Bonnie work. It’s in better shape than most of the other buildings, but it’s still run-down and kind of shady looking. The door squeaks loudly when they enter, and two purple ears pop up behind the counter, followed by a very disgruntled looking Bonnie.

“Oh, hey,” Bonnie says, leaning against the counter. One ear twitches. “I was just busy doing nothing. Again.”

“Well now you’ve gotta do something and give us free ice cream,” Chica tells him sweetly, throwing herself onto one of the stools. “We brought Jeremy out to see the town in all of its morning glory.”

Bonnie give Jeremy a knowing look. “Right. In all of its _glory_.”

Freddy huffs, amused. Chica glares at both of them.

“So, Jeremy, how are you enjoying your new home?” Bonnie asks. “Is it all you chalked it up to be?”

“It’s…charming,” Jeremy ventures, not wanting to offend them. Bonnie grins.

“Yeah, I like this one.”

Chica rolls her eyes. “Just give us our food, vermin.”

“Ouch,” Bonnie says, still grinning. He looks at Jeremy. “I’m sorry to say that we currently only have boring vanilla and chocolate left because the owner of this fine establishment is a scatterbrained idiot.”

“I’m going to assume that’s your way of asking which flavour I want,” Jeremy says. “The answer would be chocolate.”

Bonnie laughs. He serves them and then rounds the counter to sit with them, and Jeremy gets to see how tall he really is. His ears make up maybe a fifth of his height, at least, but without them he’s still freakishly tall. He perches on one of the stools and engages Jeremy in conversation, asking about where he came from and what he wants to do now that he’s here.

Bonnie’s definitely more laid-back than Chica and Freddy. He’s got an air of cool disinterest about him, but he’s easy to talk to, and he has a good sense of humour. With Freddy’s looming silence and Chica’s unstoppable chirpiness, Jeremy had been afraid he wouldn’t be able to properly get along with any of his new housemates, but it seems that he was wrong.

They talk for maybe an hour – Bonnie doesn’t even have to stop to help any customers, seeing as there aren’t any. When he does need to leave, Freddy decides that it’s time to go home anyway, and they bid their goodbyes before following him back out to his car. It’s a fifteen-minute drive back to the house, which Jeremy spends yet again trying not to puke everywhere.

When they return, Freddy stays outside to install the new gutter, and Chica goes off to god knows where, leaving Jeremy mainly to his own devices. He decides to fish a book out of the large bookcase sitting outside the living room and settles down on the couch, somehow a lot less agitated than he’d woken up.

He loses himself in the book and lets time pass, still getting used to the feeling of this place. It’s gonna take a while to actually feel comfortable here, he knows, and probably much longer to get used to the fact that he’s sharing a house with a bunch of giant talking animals, but it’s not as scary as it was last night.

He’ll just have to wait, he supposes, to see what becomes of this. Wait for an explanation or for his brain to fix itself overnight. That’s okay, though; Jeremy’s patient. He can wait.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated!
> 
> stay safe, y'all


	3. Your Own Handy-Dandy House Repair Bear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy helps Freddy with some chores and meets a neighbour.

Days pass, and Jeremy begins to properly settle into his new life. He’s rostered onto the list of house chores by Chica and trained in how to properly load the dishwasher without something exploding by Foxy – who seems to be very experienced in the art of causing kitchen appliances to blow.

Mealtimes are odd, if only in the fact that his housemates are already a very close-knit family, and he’s still somewhat on the outside. The awkwardness fades after a few nights, but the strangeness of eating a meal cooked by a chicken (who’s apparently a raging vegetarian, go figure) at a table full of other assorted animal-people doesn’t look like it’ll go away any time soon. It’s nice, though, to feel a part of something.

Marionette is still a mystery wrapped in an enigma. They never join the group for meals, but sometimes Jeremy catches glimpses of them out the corner of his eye. They spend most of their time in their office, though they’ll venture out occasionally to talk to whoever’s around.

Jeremy slowly starts to learn his way around everybody’s personalities. Chica can be overbearing at times, but she’s always willing to do absolutely anything. She’s a talented cook, especially when it comes to satiating her own sweet-tooth. Whenever Jeremy feels anything remotely negative, Chica can always tell, and somehow has an infinite supply of chocolates to throw at him until he feels better.

Bonnie is the most laid-back and easy to talk to - though sometimes it seems like he doesn’t care quite enough – and Jeremy finds him by far the most ‘normal’ of their little group. He spends his time at home reading and doing crossword puzzles in the living room. Jeremy has found himself visiting him at work some days when he gets bored.

Foxy’s loud and abrasive, and that pirate-speak is still slightly disconcerting, but he’s fun to be around, and he offers countless times to help Jeremy learn how to play an assortment of video games. By Jeremy’s third day in the house, that damn hook has already put holes in two of his shirts.

Freddy is stoic and reserved – and a little tactless - but Jeremy quickly finds himself warming to him. Something is comforting about his presence, be it how huge he is, or how gently he handles anything even slightly fragile, or maybe even the tone of his voice. He and Jeremy will sit in comfortable silence, each doing their own thing, which is sometimes a very pleasant shift from the hurried whirlwind that is hanging out with Chica or Foxy.

Despite how hectic his beginnings at this house had been, Jeremey quickly becomes accustomed to life in his new home. He settles into a new sleep schedule, does his best to strengthen his relationships between the other tenants, and all-around just sort of…exists, for once.

On his fifth day in town, Jeremy finds himself sitting on the front porch in the sun, sometime around noon. He’s bored, and tired of being cooped up, but there isn’t much else to do – so he sits outside and watches the clouds.

He doesn’t notice Freddy come out to sit next to him, but all of a sudden there’s a large, warm presence at his side, and when Jeremy looks over, Freddy’s leaning against the banister, squinting against the sunlight. He’s wearing a brown sweater-vest over his usual black button-up, but he lacks the standard bow tie and top hat.

“Hey,” Jeremy greets. “Nice day.”

Freddy hums his assent. “Indeed.” He heaves a sigh, swatting at a curious fly that makes the mistake of swooping into his line of sight. “But you seem bored.”

Jeremy shrugs. “I am, a little. I’m still not really used to the house – so I guess it’s hard to find things to do.”

Freddy nods. He yawns, revealing sharp teeth that glint in the sun. There’s pleasant silence for a few minutes, and then:

“Say, Mr Fitzgerald. Are you any good with tools?”

Jeremy blinks.

“Tools? I can work a hammer, if that’s what you mean.”

“That will be acceptable,” Freddy says. “Come with me.”

He stands up with a grunt, beckoning at Jeremy to follow him around the back of the house. Jeremy, a little confused, wades through the sea of assorted weeds that makes up the front yard to catch up, stopping and waiting while Freddy unlatches the gate.

“What are we doing?” Jeremy asks.

“Repairing the fence,” Freddy tells him. He gestures towards the far end of the backyard, where a few of the fence-posts have toppled over. A couple of the boards connecting them have been snapped in half. “Some of the neighbourhood children ran through here and left this mess.”

Well. Apparently there are children in the neighbourhood capable of wrecking four-foot wooden fences. Good to know. And honestly not that surprising, considering they could be a bunch of anthropomorphic wildebeest or something.

“So you’re the resident handyman, huh?” Jeremy calls while Freddy fetches a toolbox and a bundle of spare wooden boards from the tattered shed. “You do all these sorts of things?”

“I would not trust Foxy or Bonnie with power tools,” comes Freddy’s rumbling reply. “And Chica – bless her, but her bones are much too brittle for this sort of work.”

Huh.

“Is that because she’s a bird?”

Freddy sets the toolbox down at the base of the broken fence. “Yes. She can barely lift a full shopping bag with those wings of hers.”

“Makes sense.” Jeremy kneels next to him, dwarfed by Freddy’s presence. “But you trust me with this stuff?”

“It’s a fence,” Freddy says mildly. “If you mess it up it most likely will not kill you. Unless you are incredibly unlucky.”

“Fair.” Jeremy glances at the toolbox. “So what do you need me to do? Hammer some shit?”

“Indeed.” Freddy hands him a hammer that is – thankfully – the right size for Jeremy’s puny human hands. He glances at Jeremy’s face. “I will hold the boards in place. It does not have to be pretty. Merely efficient.”

“I’m gonna make it pretty, don’t worry,” Jeremy says. “This fence will be the envy of the neighbourhood. Just you wait.”

Freddy huffs a laugh. He reaches out, grabs the broken board with his huge paws, and snaps it straight off the posts without effort. He discards the splintering pieces by tossing them over the fence, then removes the next one in the same manner.

“Last time,” Freddy says as he holds a new board in place for Jeremy to affix to the post. “I requested Foxy do this.”

“I assume that could only go poorly.”

“I did not take his hook into account,” Freddy agrees. “Nor his insatiable need for destruction. I spent the next day fixing everything he had spent an hour defacing. Why he feels the need to engrave his name into every surface he comes across, I am still unsure.”

Jeremy chuckles. He hammers a nail into the board, trying to recall doing this with his father as a teenager. He can vaguely remember hitting his thumb with the hammer hard enough that the skin on his fingertip split open and he needed stitches. He’d thought it was the most hilarious thing ever. His mother had not agreed.

“When I first arrived at this house, it was only Chica and Bonnie,” Freddy goes on. “Marionette had been doing their best at upkeep, but – well, I suppose you have also seen how small their arms are. I took over soon after. In the beginning, Bonnie tried to assist me, but he was not – and still is not – good at following my instructions.”

“For some reason, I was convinced you’d all arrived at the same time,” Jeremy tells him. “But I guess it makes sense that you didn’t.”

“It does feel as though we have known each other for decades,” Freddy says. Jeremy hammers in another nail and moves onto the other end of the board. “A time before the others feels very far away.”

“How long have you lived here, then? From what Chica’s said, it’s been a while.”

Freddy thinks on this for a while. Jeremy watches him scratch at his ears with one of his claws. His fur, while normally a deep brown, has tints of orange and rich colour when the sun hits it.

“I suppose it has been nearly eight years, now,” Freddy murmurs, counting off his paws. “We have seen a lot of change since then. That might be why it feels like so much longer.”

Jeremy nods. “Makes sense. I think it’s cool, how close you guys all are.”

Freddy’s hum rumbles in his chest. Jeremy can almost feel the vibrations reverberate in his skull. “Indeed.”

They continue to work their way down the fence line. Freddy has to prop up a few of the posts again, grumbling while he does so. Jeremy takes the time to really look around. The backyard is mostly bare, apart from the brambles spilling in from outside the perimeter and the various grasses growing through the cracks in the earth. The area around the house is unruly woodland, which would almost be beautiful if it weren’t so creepy.

On the other side of the backyard – the side without the undoubtedly haunted woods – is a cracked sidewalk that links the few houses on this street together. Jeremy has yet to see anybody using it. He doesn’t even know any of the neighbours’ names yet – though he’s overheard Chica talking about a few of them with Bonnie a couple times.

“What’re ye lads up to?”

Jeremy looks over his shoulder at Foxy, who’s apparently just ventured outside and is now standing a few feet away, a mischievous glint to his one working eye.

“Mr Fitzgerald is helping me fix the fence,” Freddy says. “Which should be obvious, considering the hammer and the ruined fence.”

“Aye, Jeremy, the old bear’s roped you into his hard work, eh?” Foxy croons, bounding closer. “Gotta admit, matey, I feel bad for ya.”

“I enjoy it,” Jeremy says with a shrug. “Besides, he told me that he couldn’t trust you to do it. I thought I could take up that void.”

“Ye trying to replace me already, old bear?” Foxy asks. “It’s gonna take a lot more than that.”

Freddy chuckles. “Rest assured, if I wanted to replace you, I would have done so years ago. Perhaps I would find something quiet, like a mouse, or raccoon. Something with brains.”

Foxy rolls his eye. He crouches beside Jeremy just as he finishes up on one of the last boards. “May not sound like it, Fitzgerald, but this old bear? He likes me. Couldn’t bring ‘imself to get rid o’ me, no sir.”

“You do have a certain charm,” Jeremy tells him. “You’re like the younger sibling everybody tolerates at the birthday party.”

“That is an excellent description,” Freddy agrees. Foxy scrunches up his nose, scrutinising them with his single yellow eye narrowed.

His ears twitch, and then he barks a laugh.

“Aye, I like this one, Cap’n,” Foxy says, jabbing his hook at Jeremy. “He’s a good one.”

“I’m flattered,” says Jeremy. He knocks in the last nail on the last board, slapping it a bit to make sure it won’t immediately fall apart. The wood they’ve been using, Freddy had explained, is scraps from Nightmare’s workshop. It’s not exactly sturdy, but it’s been working so far.

Freddy steps back to survey Jeremy’s work. Satisfied with what he sees, he gives Jeremy a nod and a small smile.

“You did a good job for your first try,” Freddy says. “I only see a few minor mistakes.”

“Thanks.”

Foxy grins, knocking Jeremy’s elbow. “Well, would ye look at that! Freddy? Praising somebody? ‘Tis unheard of! Nowhere across the seven seas has anyone heard Old Bear show appreciation. Jeremy, lad, you’re the chosen one.”

“Hush,” Freddy says. “Perhaps you do not get praised because you don’t do anything I ask of you.”

“Nah,” says Foxy. “That can’t be right.”

Jeremy laughs. When Freddy holds out his paw, he gives back the hammer, which is engulfed by the sheer size of Freddy’s own hand. He stashes it back in the toolbox and picks it up.

“I will put this away, then. Thank you for assisting me, Jeremy. If you wouldn’t mind helping me out again, there’s always something going wrong around the house.”

“I’d like that!” Jeremy calls after him as he disappears into the shed. Turning back to Foxy, Jeremy grins.

“Guess I’m Freddy’s new assistant.”

“That’s a high honour ‘round these waters,” Foxy tells him. He shakes out his fur. “Aye, you’ve earned the old bear’s favour now. Use it wisely.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Freddy lumbers back over to them slowly, feet thudding heavily against the earth. He sets himself down with a grunt and holds out a small slip of paper in Jeremy’s direction.

“You told Marionette you wanted to find a job as soon as possible,” Freddy explains. “Besides, I can tell that you’ve been bored.”

Jeremy takes the paper. On it, a chain of numbers is scrawled in messy handwriting. A phone number of some kind. “Who’s it for?”

“Nightmare mentioned wanting extra hands around his store,” Freddy lifts his right shoulder in a half-shrug. “Only if you want to, of course, but I think that he would like you. You have a good head on your shoulders.”

“Oh, thank you,” Jeremy says. “This is very kind of you.”

“It’s not a problem,” Freddy assures him with that rumbling voice of his. “There is only so much to do around the house, and I don’t doubt that Foxy’s constant presence is grating.”

He shoots a sly smile at Foxy, who rolls his eye and makes a rude gesture in Freddy’s general direction.

“Says the one who looks like bigfoot and a grizzly bear had an unfortunate affair,” Foxy shoots back.

“Don’t insult my mother, fox.”

Foxy cackles.

Jeremy glances over his shoulder at the sound of footsteps and spots a distinctly yellow bear shuffling down the street, four separate gallon containers of water slung under his arms. He, too, is wearing a bow tie and a top hat – both a vibrant shade of purple. Must be a bear thing. He catches Jeremy’s gaze and gives a friendly wave, which Jeremy returns.

“Fredbear!” Foxy calls, noticing this exchange. “Aye, how are ye, matey?”

The yellow bear pauses and shuffles towards the fence. Foxy clamours to his feet and bounds over, yelling something unintelligible. Freddy exchanges an amused glance with Jeremy, and they both make their way over as well.

“Good afternoon, Fredbear,” Freddy greets.

“Afternoon,” Fredbear says, voice smooth as honey. He looks at Jeremy, sets two of his gallons down at his feet, and holds out a hand. Jeremy takes it, wincing at the pressure of Fredbear’s bear-grip. “You must be the new housemate that Chica mentioned. I’m Fredbear.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jeremy says. “I’m, uh – I’m Jeremy. Jeremy Fitzgerald.”

“Jeremy, Jeremy, Jeremy,” Fredbear repeats it a few times, feeling it out. “That’s a good name. A familiar name.”

“Aye, Fredbear lives right down the street,” Foxy butts in. “Him and his – cousin? Brother?”

“Adopted brother,” Fredbear corrects. He smiles sweetly at Jeremy. “We’re the house with the broken windows, a couple doors down.”

He says it casually, like that’s not concerning in the slightest sense of the word. Jeremy glances at Freddy, but he doesn’t seem all that perturbed. Then again, there’s probably a lot weirder folks around here. They’ve probably seen it all.

“What’s all the water for?” Foxy asks, peering down into one of the bottles, watching his reflection as it gets distorted by the plastic.

“We haven’t paid our bills for a few months too many,” Fredbear explains. That sweet smile doesn’t once slip from his expression. “So I went out to buy these in the meantime. I saw Bonnie in town. He was very understanding.”

“My condolences,” Freddy rumbles. “If you ever need anything from us, we’ve got plenty to spare.”

Fredbear shakes his head. “Thank you for the offer, Freddy.” The smile fades a little. “Right now, I suppose all I need is an extra pair of eyes. My poor brother stormed out a few days ago, and I haven’t seen him since. I wouldn’t usually worry, but – “

“Isn’t he on house arrest?” Foxy interrupts. “Are ye sure he should be out in the first place?”

Freddy elbows him in the ribs. Foxy stamps on his foot in retaliation, glowering.

“He was released from house arrest just last week,” Fredbear says. Whether he notices the silent, heated exchange between Freddy and Foxy, he doesn’t react. “That’s why I’m worried. He’s in enough trouble as it is. Besides, with his disability – I don’t want him to get himself hurt.”

“Of course,” Freddy says, smoothly pushing Foxy to the side. “I will make sure to keep an eye out for him. He’s smart, though. I doubt you need to worry.”

“It’s not him ye should be worried about,” Foxy mutters, hopefully too low for Fredbear to hear him.

“He’s probably just out by the highway,” Fredbear murmurs. “That’s where he goes to be alone. But – still, if you spot him – “

“We’ll make sure to let you know,” Freddy assures him. “If we cross paths, would you like us to tell him that you’re looking for him?”

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.” Fredbear shakes his head, round ears flopping. He sighs. “But you don’t want to hear about my family business. Jeremy, was it?”

Jeremy nods. “Yep. The one and only.”

“Well, welcome to the neighbourhood, Jeremy,” Fredbear tells him with a honeyed grin. “It doesn’t look like much, but it’s really a quaint little town. How are you finding it so far?”

“It’s…nice,” Jeremy says. “Quieter than I’m used to, though.”

Fredbear hums. “Oh, yes, I suppose it’s quite a change from the big city. The quietness – you’ll get used to it, I hope. My brother and I came in from the city, too. I like to think I’ve grown accustomed to life around these parts.”

“Aye, ye used to be a real city slicker,” Foxy says. “A pain in the ass, too. Always complainin’. Ye’ve mellowed out, though, lad. Thankfully.”

“Well, I doubt you could have blamed me, really,” Fredbear says. His fur puffs out against a sudden gust of wind that very nearly topples his hat. Jeremy’s attention is drawn to what looks like a barely-healed burn scar on Fredbear’s right arm, the skin red and exposed.

“I s’pose not,” Foxy muses.

Fredbear smiles, an odd tightness to his expression. He looks down at his wrist, squinting. “Oh, dear. I should be heading home, now. It was wonderful meeting you, Jeremy.”

“You too.”

“Wait - before you go,” Freddy says, reaching out over the fence to touch Fredbear’s shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t need any help? I’m sure Chica would be delighted to help you out. And you know Marionette always has a place for you here.”

Fredbear shakes his head. “It’s very kind of you to offer, but we’ll be okay. If you could just keep an eye out for my brother, that would be incredibly helpful.”

“Of course.” Freddy steps back. “Good luck with your water situation.”

“Thank you.” Fredbear inclines his head. He leans over and hauls the water bottles back into his arms. “Alright. Goodbye, you three. I’ll talk to you soon, I hope.”

“Bye, lad!” Foxy says with an exaggerated wave of his hook. Fredbear smiles and returns it, stepping back onto the sidewalk.

Jeremy watches him leave. He reaches into his pocket, brushing his fingers over the slip of paper with Nightmare’s phone number.

“Aye, Jeremy,” Foxy says, nudging his shoulder. “You wanna learn how to play Bear-Blaster 3000?”

“Sounds…interesting. I think.” Jeremy blinks. “Uh – Freddy, you don’t need me to do anything else, do you?”

Freddy waves him off. “No, you’ve done your part. You’re free to go play that terrible game with Foxy.”

Foxy grins, teeth glinting. “Aye, matey, let’s go take out our anger on tiny Freddies.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter coincided with a hellova lot of writer's block and I'm pretty sure it tore out part of my soul. I'm sure it's well below average quality but I can't find the effort to care.


End file.
